Time
by novelsandnovellas
Summary: "You're not as bad as people say, you know that, Draco?" disclaimer: cover image is not mine, credit to the original owner/creator. Story updated on a Monday night.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 **1997**

There was a group of around seven individuals congregating in the large foyer of the Malfoy Manor, whispering at an unnerving speed, their voices laced with strong animosity and confusion. They almost looked like a group of girls at school, planning to 'avenge' the friend whom had just been victim to a scandalous episode with her boyfriend - basic, childlike gossip.

The skin on their inner wrists burned with the presence of the Dark Lord and they were at a such deep unease that it was strange that they could even conjure up a decent conversation. But, though and behold they had decent 'gossip'.

Voldemort was here, and he had an order for Lucius' only son.


	2. One

**Chapter One**

The air surrounding Malfoy was filled with tension, so tight that had Severus Snape pulled out his wand it would cut straight through it. Lucius stood outside the front entrance, pacing fast and muttering under his breath. Severus couldn't make out the words as he approached the man, but he was sure that they were about his son, Draco. The boy - and the girl - were all anybody was talking about today, and it was no surprise that the Death Eater was so on edge; Voldemort would be arriving any minute now.

Malfoy looked up, sighing with relief. "Severus, you're here." The two men had never seen eye-to-eye in their entire lives, but something about this situation made it easy for the two to be civil. Snape nodded at the blonde Death Eater, following as Lucius led him into the large house. People waited in the Foyer, most smiling and joking, but a fair few - mostly the other Death Eaters - were too slightly tense. They were easily distinguished, not by their hard faces and creased upper brow - which all seemed to be permanent nowadays - but, by their identifiable long black cloaks. It seemed none of them cared that their were other wizards here, though they didn't care either. Half the room were devout Voldemort followers anyway.

From somewhere upstairs Severus could here the jubilations of many women and had no doubt that they were from the 'Bridal Party'. It seemed ridiculous that they be celebrating even if there was a Wedding, because he was sure that both involved in the ceremony were in no mood to celebrate at all. The two had been ordered to be joined in matrimony by the Dark Lord himself, and there was no arguing unless you wanted to be added to the list of the dead that were being read out on the various radio stations.

A small, stodgy, looking man appeared then and began to usher everybody outside where the courtyard had been transformed into an impressive outlay - the whole place smelt like roses, Emelé's favourite flowers. Severus stayed behind as the progression of wizards walked through to their seats. Soon it was only him and Lucius, who had gone back to pacing.

"Where is Draco?" He asked the man wearily, watching him pause in his stride before speeding back up as he continued pointing only his head to the door that was on the left of the foyer.

Severus entered without knocking, shocking the teenager as he did so. There was a strange connection between the two that had stayed since sixth year, memories of the Astronomy Tower coming to mind as he looked at the horror on the teenagers face.

Draco hesitated before speaking, "You can't help me this time, can you?" He didn't need to hear the reply to know the answer. If he refused to do this, then both he and his parents would be killed. It wasn't a debate this time, there was no second chances.

"I cannot change the Dark Lord's mind." It was exactly what he'd the previous year to his mother, only this time the sentence wasn't followed with a 'but'.

Draco nodded, sucking his lip in to stop himself from crying. There weren't many times in his life where he had felt the need to cry, but this past year he'd found himself on the verge of tears more than he ever had. He shook his arms, turning his back on the professor and pushing the hair of his face. When he finally faced Severus again a strange glaze of steel had covered his eyes. They were filled with determination and a strength Severus had only ever seen in the eyes of Lily Potter. It froze him for a second before muttering that the Bride would be down soon.

As they walked, Draco looked up at Severus. "Is she OK?"

Severus had to think about it for a moment, he'd met her a few times since the order had been placed and had found himself filled with the same fondness as a man would with his own daughter. "The girl is feeling the same as you are." There was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice; there were some orders that even Severus found himself disagreeing with. He walked the boy to the alter before taking a place beside Lucius, just in time for the music to begin chiming.

There was a brief moment of stative air before Emelé and the procession of the bridal party entered where the empty seat at the top of the alter became filled with _his_ presence. Sat straight and smiling despite the devoid of emotion in his eyes as he watched the girl walk down the long aisle.

She looked beautiful, there was no denying it. Her dress made entirely out of lace that clung to her petite stature, it almost looked like the most intricate tattoo against her pale skin. Her eyes were wide, locked on the two 'men' that were waiting for her. Long hair curled for the most part and pinned back excluding a few thin strands that lingered beside her face. Emelé was a Pureblood witch, her parents - now deceased - had been fully pledged Death Eaters, and had the most extraordinary beauty. There really wasn't a couple more perfectly matched if you based it on appearance and blood status - which was one of the main reasons that Tom had paired them together, that, and the failed task that the only Malfoy son had failed to complete himself last term.

Voldemort's unpleasant smile widened as she reached the alter, extending his frail arms out to greet her in embrace. He held her there for longer than she wanted, and Draco could feel himself becoming uncomfortable at the sight of his 'fiancée' being so close to him, despite knowing nothing of the girl.

When he finally released her, pushing her dismisfully towards Draco - who caught her with ease - so that he could greet the guests.

"My _friends_ , let the ceremony begin."


	3. Two

**Chapter Two**

Draco Malfoy didn't know how he'd become so submissive; perhaps it was when he was five, and his father had held a wand to his head, demanding that he hand over the car that he was zooming around the cream tiles, 'not allowed to play with muggle toys.'; or maybe when his mother had begged him not to argue with the decision that he become a Death Eater just the year previous, she'd sobbed all day -and my God was she a hideous crier - until he'd just smiled softly and patted her arm, shrugging as he whispered 'It's OK Mum, it will all be OK." and walked out after his father to have the mark placed on his arm.

He had come to understand that there was very little control that he himself had over the life that he would most likely lead. It was a bitter irony that he had thought that his wedding - and choice of partner - would be any different, that perhaps he'd fall in love at the age of nineteen to his 'childhood sweetheart' and get married too young and have children too soon, or he'd wait until he was settled and secure before he found someone who suited him best, someone who could deal with his psychotic temper and his jaded past.

The ceremony was short, and nothing like he'd imagined a wedding would be - though he'd never been to one so he couldn't accurately say that this wasn't the normal thing to do; wrist touching wrist, burning ever so slightly at the contact, eyes locked on one another - they were studying instead of looking. Though neither could keep their eyes off of Voldemort for too long, his voice sharp with a million secrets as he whispered the 'vows' in Latin: " _Nam qui non poenam luerent, et in hoc est sacrum secretum tenebitur. Binae vitae datum in debitum unius. Ut animas suas forte saturatus inliciar copiosa._ " before leaving their hands free from his icy touch and turning to the crowd.

"These two have been blessed, and in my name, a vow has been taken." Then he turned to Emelé, who shifted a fraction under his fierce gaze, what looked like a smile on his thin papery lips. "Welcome to the Malfoy family." There was something about the way he said it, with lips tight and teeth bared, that made the words sound more like a threat than an welcome. Emelé smiled the best she could, though her rouged lips trembled.

There was long moment of stative silence before a large cheer erupted around the two. Lucius was in front of them in a millisecond, smiling falsely as he placed his hand on Draco's back and led them down the aisle and through the house. The reception was in the garden, and it had been transformed from the perfect rose beds and statues into what looked like a Wonderland setting. Large bouquets of unidentifiable flowers filled the air with a fragrance that was sweet, like the scent of a petunia after being left in a closed room all day. There was a pathway, each side overflowing with the same scent before the two came out into a large opening. Round tables were arranged perfectly around the concrete, a larger one on the side for the Death Eaters and another longer one for the Bride and Groom - though they couldn't ignore the large white chair looming in the corner of the setting, and easily guessed that there would only be one person sitting their.

Lucius left them once they were there, muttering about how this wouldn't end well; Draco wasn't sure whether his Father meant the reception, or the marriage itself, but decided that both were bound to end in a disaster.

Once they were alone, he turned to the girl curiously, but she wasn't stood beside him like she had been a second ago. Emele wandered around the edge of the reception venue, small manicured fingers tracing the delicate petals of a rose. "They're beautiful, are they not?" He hadn't heard her speak, but he hadn't expected her to be so well spoken. When he didn't answer she turned to him, eyebrow cocked upwards. "Do you not think so?"

Draco stuttered, closing his mouth when he realised that he was incomprehensible before a blush crept underneath the surface of his pale skin. He was almost the same shade as the rose her fingers still had a hold of. "Don't be shy Draco, we're _married_ now." The smile on her lips was sad. Emelé sighed, turning back to the flowers before letting it go gently, walking to the spot with her name on it, and took a seat. He followed suit, almost as though he couldn't help himself. There was something inside him that couldn't take being too far away from her for too long.

The rest of the evening was filled with laughter, cake and dancing (which, whilst odd and slightly out of place, wasn't entirely unpleasant). Unlike muggle weddings, no speeches were made or cake cut - the house elf did that before a herd of them came and began to hand it out after the meal. Soon enough the guests were leaving and only those who were in league with Voldemort were left. A few were drunk and were apparated out by their wives but the others stayed, congregating in the large meeting room. It wasn't said, but there was something about the atmosphere around the room that suggested the wedded couple were not invited to the 'meeting'.

One thing was certain both were sure of it, the wedding was over but whatever the reason behind it definitely wasn't.

 _ **For those who are punishable will be punished, and in this marriage a sacred secret will be held. Two lives given in debt of one. May their lives be full and plentiful.**_

 _ **\- Translation of the vows. (This was done through Google so I apologise if it is incorrect)**_


	4. Three

**Chapter Three**

Both of the newly-weds sat in the quiet room that Draco had spent his childhood in, growing and playing whenever time allowed it, awkward and not sure quite what to say to one another. Draco watched as Emelé traced the patterns of the beautiful dress, following the swirling patterns all the way up to her arms and back down once more. Both blushed when they noticed each other gazing at the other; one being caught in the act of staring, the other only just noticing the pondering eyes that watched her with a wild curiosity.

Catching a thought, Draco stood abruptly, shocking the slight brunette as he strolled into the wardrobe before coming back, a box in hand. He blushed once more as he held it out to her, smiling smally as she took it with timid hands, one of her eyebrows cocked in wonder. "What is it?" She asked quietly as he sat back down, turning so that his whole frame was facing her.

"I bought them for you. I thought perhaps you'd feel uncomfortable wearing your dress all night, I wasn't sure if they'd bring you any other clothes." He shrugged, as though the gesture was nothing more than a brief thought. In fact, Draco had worried tiresomely over how well cared for Emelé was, knowing his family and those they kept acquaintance with. He'd rushed out yesterday to buy the small piece of fabric, paying a fair few galleons to ensure his wife had only the best. Emelé supposed she'd have to get used to the astronomical price tags on items as frivolous as clothing.

Inside the box, a silk dress was folded with care to ensure no creases. The fabric a deep rouge that matched the colour of your lipstick. It was fairly plain, spare a few tiny flowers that sat where her waist would fit. Running her fingers over it, just as she had with the extravagant gown she adorned, she smiled softly. "It's beautiful Draco, thank-you." Her voice seemed almost as soft as the material in her hands, and there was a glaze of vulnerability over her blue eyes - she couldn't remember the last time someone had given her something just because they could. It was a long time ago, she was sure of that.

As she left the bedroom to change, Draco went down to the study to find his Mother, who was engrossed in what looked like a mountain of paperwork. He wasn't even sure when she'd started doing work, perhaps when Father had stopped. Narcissa looked up as he entered, the smile wavering slightly on her thin lips as she set aside the piece of parchment.

"Are you both packed?" She asked, confusing her son. Upon seeing the blank expression on his face the woman sighed. "Your Father was supposed to tell you." There was a bitterness when she spoke of Lucius, almost as though she wanted to hex him into oblivion. Draco doubted that anyone would complain if she did so.

Walking over to the seat beside her he spoke. "What exactly are we packing for?"

"You and the girl will stay together for the duration of Summer. It is imperative that you two know as much about each other as possible, a bond will keep this marriage from withering away. And once the war is over, you will both reside there - it truly is a magnificent house." There had been a unanimous decision amongst the Death Eaters in favour of this plan. None knew exactly what Voldemort was planning for the two of them, but to ensure that it went well the two would be better knowing one another well than not knowing each other at all.

A thought occurred as he listened to his mother speak. "When we return to Hogwarts, will people... be aware of our marriage?" Draco wondered aloud, cringing slightly at the thought of telling people that he was a husband already. Not that it was particularly uncommon in Pureblood families.

Narcissa sighed, handing him the Daily Prophet. Plastered on the front was a picture of him and Emelé; her hair was blowing slightly from the light breeze, rouged lips turned upwards as she looked at Draco. He hadn't even noticed that she had been looking at him that way, and in the photograph he appeared to be gazing back absently - almost looking disinterested in the whole fiasco. His eyes drifted down to their entwined hands, mesmerised by the movement of his thumb against the hood of her petite hand; skin on skin, their rings glittering under the lights that surrounding the alter. Emelé's beauty shone in the photo, eyes bright and smile - while subtle - was equally as stunning.

To Narcissa's surprise, Draco found himself smiling as he continued to look at the moving picture. "You are not angry." She murmured, shock in her voice. His eyes flickered to hers before going back down shaking his head. After a moment he threw the paper into the fire, turning to walk out of the room.

"I'll pack our things."


	5. Four

**Chapter Four**

The summer house was quiet, the lake around it tranquil and beautiful. Emelé tip-toed out of the shared room, careful not to wake Malfoy from his slumber – he was much more easy to manage when he was sleeping; he didn't ask as many questions and his brash attitude was finally calmed. They'd been there for nearly a month already but she wasn't sure she would ever get over the beauty of the lake at dusk, just as the sun was teetering at the border deliberating whether to show herself or not and a hazy glow rolled over the surface of the water.

Her new _husband_ had taken it upon himself to keep the two of them as busy as possible on the small secluded island, she supposed he was trying to make it seem as much like a regular honeymoon as he could. She appreciated his efforts, whatever the motives. The exuberance that he put into their regular daily tasks took her mind off the fact that she would be returning to Hogwarts as a Malfoy, and not a Redthorne. Neither was of more value, she supposed, but at least the latter held a sign of Identity. Nobody knew of course that her parents had been Cilla and Hunter Redthorne, notorious Death Eaters responsible for the deaths of over 70 muggles, but they knew that Draco's family had been involved with the Dark Arts since birth, and now she was part of that too.

Emelé sensed him before she'd even seen him; his strong aura had become so easy to recognize now, it reeked with power but held the strangest coloring of vulnerability. It was warm – a pleasant surprise, she'd been so certain it had felt like ice the first time they'd met – and when he sat down on the opposite end of the large deckchair there was no sign of harshness in his features, for once, the man she had met on her wedding day was settled in a bliss, rare, moment of serenity. He caught her staring, and smiled warmly when her cheeks flushed crimson.

"Good morning," Draco murmured, entwining their legs absentmindedly. "You're up early today. I thought maybe we'd spend today inside, the winds colder this morning so it's likely to rain."

She hummed in response, picking up one of the mugs he'd brought outside with him. He was right; it was colder today, the warmth of the tea almost scolding on her frozen fingers. Emelé watched as Draco chugged down his scalding black coffee, wincing as he did every morning. She failed to understand why he did it when it caused him discomfort, but never felt it important enough to pester him about.

Today would be the first day that they spent together without being occupied, the others had been spent rock-climbing, hiking, surfing and visiting all the wonders of this secluded island – they'd done so much it was a wonder they hadn't covered the whole place yet. It was a daunting thought, neither knew much about one another, or about socialising in regular social situations. It occurred to both that today would not be like those spent with fellow Death Eaters or their parents, but not quite the same as time with their Hogwarts friends either. How did one socialise with a spouse they knew nothing about?

The two hastily stood when the winds began to churn around them, the clouds that had stolen the morning's sunrise black and abysmal overhead lighting with a storm, and retreated into the comfort of the home – that was far bigger than a summer home ought to be.

"Shall we play a game?" Emelé asked once the two of them had washed and changed, looking over to Draco, who had his hands held together so tight she thought they might break if his grip became any stronger.

With surprised eyes he nodded, moving to sit on the couch. "I'm not sure what sort of games there are here, I searched all the cupboards and there doesn't seem to be any board games, that's for sure."

Emelé just smiled, "How about 20 Questions? We'll put our own twist on it and just ask one another regular questions. It'll give us a chance to 'form a bond'." The sarcasm in her voice was just heavy enough to make Draco's mouth tip up at the corner.

"Sure. You go first."

She smiled again before cocking her head to the side. "When is your birthday?"

Draco seemed to hesitate with his answer before finally admitting. "It's June 8th." Emelé's eyes widen as she recounts the days before falling back to her first conclusion.

"We got married on your birthday? Was that supposed to be symbolic?" He'd never seen her so angry, or heard her speak so out of turn, and was shocked that she had such fury inside her. Draco just shrugged, he supposed it had probably been symbolic somehow – or even if it had or it hadn't, he didn't think the Dark Lord cared much for his birthday either way.

Emelé stayed silent, assessing her husband quietly before taking a breath. "It's your turn."

"Oh, um. When is your birthday?" Draco stuttered out, embarrassed that he hadn't picked a different question from her.

Emelé only rolled her eyes. "Cheater." She whispered, smirking. "It's August 12th."

Without waiting for a response her face went serious and her next question was asked, stumping Draco. "Why did you agree to marry someone you'd never met?"

He looked like he'd swallowed a hive full of bees, and the lump in his throat sure felt like it too. He had to cough a few times before he could answer her. As she waited, she assessed him; the ways his eyes fell to the couch instead of her, fingers grasped tightly onto one another and she was sure his breathing had picked up ever so slightly.

"You don't have to answer that, if you don't want to." She whispered, sensing his discomfort.

When his eyes met hers, holding the same energy as the storm lashing outside the house had, it startled her. "No, it's fine. I'll answer it. That's the rules, right?" He said, lips tilting up slightly. Emelé stayed quiet, patient as he tried to calm his nerves.

"I didn't have much of a choice, to tell the truth. I woke up a few days after Dumbledore's death and they told me that he wanted to see me, in all my life I've never been so scared as I was when I walked into that room. He said my mother's life depended on the outcome of this and, since she's the only person I really care for, it seemed like a bit of a no-brainer."

When Draco finished, he looked up to see tears in Emelé's eyes and with a cocked eyebrow, reached out to comfort her, pulling her into his side.

"I wish I had someone that meant that much to me. You're lucky, you know, that you have her." She whispered, gripping the cotton of his t-shirt.

Draco smiled, looking down at her. "You should've heard the scolding I got from her for agreeing to it." He said with a nudge, making her giggle.

"Was it bad?" Trying to contain her laughter at the thought of him being told off by the small woman.

"Yes!" Draco laughed. "And god, it lasted for weeks!"

As the two of them continued to laugh and joke over Draco's horror, Emelé felt more at ease than she had since the decision for her to marry the boy had been made. It was comforting sitting there together and, for once, neither were worrying about what was to come.

 _ **A/N: I've come to realise I am**_ _ **seriously**_ _ **unreliable when it comes to updates on this site (It's been over ten months, yikes!). I promise to try and get better, if only because I have so many ideas and so much hope for this fic! College is just such a nightmare right now :( I never seem to have any free time anymore, and any I do have is spent sleeping. Have hope in me though guys!**_

 _ **This also hasn't been double checked for any spelling/grammar errors so apologies if there were any mistakes!**_


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